It is close to midnight on a Saturday night, 90 miles north of the Arctic Circle in Finnish Lapland, and the karaoke machine in the wood- panelled Yllashumina restaurant and bar is humming. Most of the performers opt for Finnish tango, a melodious if somewhat improbable mix of Nordic and Latino culture that is highly popular with the locals. But then a British voice mangling an old Gloria Gaynor number sounds out through the clink of glasses.

Courchevel, Chamonix or St Anton it ain’t, but Akaslompolo, a little Lappish village in the shadow of the Ylas fell, whose name translates as “a bend of the river, where the reindeer graze”, is an intriguing alternative for those looking for guaranteed snow without the hustle and bustle of the Alps.

Introduced to Lapland on trips to Father Christmas’s post office in Rovaniemi, to the south, Britons are now also buying property in this northernmost corner of Europe, drawn not just by the pristine forests and lakes and the prospect of a glimpse of the aurora borealis (northern lights), but also by Finland’s steadily appreciating property market. A house near Santa’s, it seems, can be for life — not just for Christmas.

Like many British buyers, Colin Brunt, 45, a chartered surveyor from Ingatestone, Essex, discovered Lapland when he took his children on a Santa holiday in December 2002. Out for a walk in Akaslompolo one day, he came across a half-built cabin in the snow. He got talking to the owner and was so impressed by what he saw he started to think about buying.

“After going back to Britain we tried to do some research on the internet, but it was impossible to find anything in English, so we went back the following summer and spent two weeks touring around,” says Brunt. “We ended up going back to the original ones we had seen half-built and bought one.” He paid £93,000 for the three-bedroom cabin, taking possession in February 2004.

When told by the locals that he was the first Briton to have bought in the resort, Brunt had an idea: if he loved Lapland so much he wanted to own his own place there, then wouldn’t some of his fellow countrymen, too? His company, Above the Arctic, was born.

“The first year, we only sold one property and, like with any new business, we felt like giving up,” he says. “But we persevered and the following year sold 10 or so. This year it is likely to have been about 40.”

Indeed, Brunt is so keen on Lapland that he and his wife Beverley, 40, intend to move to Akaslompolo in February, putting their children Fabian, 10, Tristan, 9, Blythe, 5 and Osbourne, 3, into the local school.

“There is definitely a group of people who love snow and want to have their main holidays in places like Lapland,” he says. It may also be a good investment. Restrictions on building have helped property prices in the area rise more than 50% in the past six years — with annual growth now close to double figures. Brunt’s own experience reflects this: he recently sold his original cabin for £141,000, has since bought another two-bed one and is on the lookout for a larger three-bedder.

So, Santa Claus apart, why come to Lapland? If downhill skiing is your main interest, then it is probably not worth making the trip all the way from Britain, more than three-and-a-half hours away by plane. Yllas, the local ski resort, in use since 1927, when reindeer were used as a natural ski lift, is the biggest in Finland, with 57 slopes and 27 lifts, but that is not really saying much. The slopes are not especially challenging and the summit a mere 2,355ft high.

But that is not really the point, says Mauri Kuru, managing director of Yllas Travel Service, a local rental agency that is branching into property development. “Lapland is something exotic,” he says. “People may come to ski if they are beginners or intermediate, but it is more about the snow and the huskies, the ice fishing and the snowmobile safaris.”

And, of course, the reindeer — encountered either on the snow-covered roads (local drivers always carry a knife to put the poor beasts out of their misery in case of an accident) — or, less traumatically, on your plate: the local restaurants do a fine smoked reindeer soup that can be followed with poor Rudolph, either sautéed and covered in loganberries, or filleted and served in cream sauce. The more adventurous eaters might prefer the bear or wild boar — although vegetarian alternatives are available.

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