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
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