Beware the France property dream: 'Bargain' houses eat your money, marriages can crack - and it's a one-way ticket, warns British expat

It's almost 20 years since I moved to France with my late husband – and now I'm stuck here.

Unlike most Britons who decide to make the move, we weren't seduced by the laughably cheap properties, the bountiful cut-price wine or an idyllic rural setting. 

For us, crossing the Channel permanently had been a life-or-death decision. 

A terminal diagnosis of a rare strain of cancer had left my husband, Bob, with little hope. Treatment in the UK was slow and access to a life-prolonging drug was denied him on the basis of cost. 

With the NHS towel apparently thrown in on Bob's life, we acted fast and made our move from the UK, choosing France because of its strong reputation for both cancer care and treatment.

Drawing on my experience of working with animals, we set up a kennel and cattery business in Saint-Aubin-Fosse-Louvain, a commune in north-western France, where we knew there were a high number of expats who would offer a reliable source of income for us.

Stephanie Lack, 64, has lived in Saint-Aubin-Fosse-Louvain for 18 years, after moving to the commune in north-western France with her late husband Bob

The couple's rural farmhouse was a 'wreck' when they bought it, with renovations and maintenance continuing long after Stephanie's husband died of cancer

When it came to looking for a home, our cup runneth over. Cheap houses were in abundance - and are even more so now - as long as you didn't mind worshipping at the altar of renovation.

Although it's on a hectare of land, our four-bedroomed 'wreck', which we purchased in 2008 for 135,000 euros (around £115,000), was barely habitable when we bought it. 

The previous French owner had lived like a caveman in it and it took months to make it feel anything like a home; we renovated while trying to establish the kennels and cattery.

After Bob died, I made the decision to stay in France and continue to run the business but life on this side of the Channel has been anything but easy – and every year I watch British expats dreaming of a better life falling into a similar trap. 

I later married again, to a fellow British expat, but the relationship finally cracked earlier this year. He was seemingly unable to cope with the demands and drudgery of managing an ageing house and lots of land. It's not an uncommon situation that relationships falter when the reality of renovating bites - old houses in France can devour your life savings in a few years. 

Now I'm single once more, I have no choice but to stay, still working seven-days-a-week. The French property dream is a one-way ticket thanks to the cost of living in the UK and depreciating French property values. 

My home is worth roughly what we paid for it. Prices skyrocketed for a time around 2010 but they've since seriously slumped. 

Stephanie with her late husband Bob after they bought their four-bedroom home 18 years ago

Many Britons buying into the French property dream don't realise the realities of life in rural areas of the country

When the French inherit a property, with little incentive to live in the countryside, they can't wait to sell off the pile of rubble that maman and papa once called 'home' to eager British, Dutch and American buyers who still move here despite Brexit. 

Expats obsessed with breaking free from the hustle and bustle of the UK arrive armed with pensions, savings and Google Translate, spilling over with enthusiasm for the renovation challenge that lies ahead.  

It's easy to spot the home improvers. The renovation uniform takes the form of a faded T-shirt (slogan optional), utility shorts with flapping pockets for useful tools and grubby trainers.

The French are known for their sartorial glamour... but I could have left 75 per cent of my wardrobe behind – anything remotely smart hangs listlessly in my wardrobe, such is the casual life of the expats in rural communities. 

You see, unless you're in a buzzing, bright French city, there is no occasion to dress up for. 

An evening at the local bar sees clothing segue from that reno uniform to perhaps a clean T-shirt or vest, and cargo shorts for men and leggings for women – with both wearing Crocs on their feet.

Conversation in the many pseudo English bars tends to go one of two ways, either the endless discussion of cowboy 'tradesmen' and the oh-so-smugs, who'll happily tell you all about how well their renovations are going. 

Expat cliques cluster together swapping gossip while enjoying a karaoke or open mic night along with a curry or kebab. Despite their pledges to integrate fully with the local culture, it would seem you can't quite get the Brit out of Britain.

The biggest shock for those who move here though? There's really not much to do. 

The property Stephanie bought in 2018 was 'barely habitable' and needed complete renovation

Maintaining her home has been a continuous project, says Stephanie, and one that she'll happily walk away from when she finally retires

Peace - but also extreme boredom - reigns in the French countryside

I moved from a re-wilding estate in the UK so I'm no stranger to the tranquility of the countryside; the peace around my land only occasionally broken by the plaintive mewing of buzzards, the industrial thrum of a combine harvester or the almighty crack of thunder from the frequent storms. 

If I didn't work all the time, I'd need more to fill my days. England's coffee culture doesn't exist here; there are few takeaways and only a smattering of good restaurants – most of which don't open in the evening. 

For others, it's not the lack of entertainment that sends them back to Blighty – if they can afford it – it's missing their family and friends. A Zoom call is no substitute for a newborn grandchild wrapping a tiny finger around yours. 

That small garden with smart decking you left behind was so much more manageable than two acres of sprawling weeds and, let's face it, once the quintessential 'must have' chickens stop laying, it's easier to just go and buy a box of eggs. 

Some Britons I've encountered find the language a huge barrier despite living here for many years, so the ageing process and increasing medical needs also send them home. 

Surprisingly, they prefer to leave an incredible health service, either to avoid paying a 'hand-holder' to help them or, using Google translate to help themselves!

All the doctors I've met – and there were plenty in the early days – want to get on with their job and cut out small talk. Their expertise far outweighs any brusque bedside manner though. 

This combined with the astonishing cleanliness of hospitals, the opportunity to stay in a maximum two person room with an en suite, or a private room if you have the right 'top-up insurance' underlines their far superior health system.

Admittedly, dentistry is still a bit of a letdown – I do return to the UK after trying no fewer than five different dentists here. 

The last one, I nicknamed 'the butcher from Barenton'. His x-ray machine failed; he shouted venomously at his receptionist and drilled my tooth without anaesthetic. 

Not even halfway through the procedure, with his sweat dripping into my bloodied mouth, he stormed out of the surgery complaining he didn't feel well. 

Stephanie says she doesn't regret moving to France all those years ago... but warns others to consider a new life in France very carefully before taking the plunge

Expats do enrol for language lessons joining conversational French groups that sometimes boast actual French people or informal groups set up at the local bar, although they often complain the sessions dissolve into discussions held in English about anything other than learning a new language so I've avoided them up until now.

That said, I recently joined a new group, after deciding I must set the bar higher than speaking about the weather, grandchildren and holidays with my French clients. 

As soon as the door opened into a living room full of unsmiling faces, I rightly guessed I was in trouble. They'd clearly been in this group for a very long time and openly winced as I wrestled with passé compose and imparfait. Before the hour was up I knew I wouldn't return.

When I do finally hang up the dog leads and retire I hope to be speaking much better French

I will need to downsize considerably then and I've accepted that I'll say au revoir to the perks of owning a large home where light and sound pollution, neighbours and traffic noise simply don't exist. But I won't miss the snakes in the loft, mice in the house and rats in the barns... every cloud! 

The reality of living in France is a far cry from the relaxing gite holidays many use as a benchmark to buy and live here. 

I don't our move because I did it for the right reasons at the time but my advice to others? Dip a toe in the water; rent before you buy, get ready for seemingly endless bureaucracy and be absolutely sure of what they're getting in to. And keep that latin phrase caveat emptor - 'buyer beware' - front and centre throughout.