months ago while her husband bought a smart new golf bag. Interested? No, me neither.

Which makes you wonder how a 80-odd pages of such inconsequential drivel, under the title "Twelve Months on a Rock'', has found its way into the book stores.

Written with all the panache of a giddy eight-year-old's essay on what she did on her summer holidays, expat housewife Janice MacKenzie manages to bore, irritate and offend.

It's billed as a personal and lighthearted account of her first year on the Island -- but it manages to be neither.

We certainly hear in excruciating detail about Mrs. MacKenzie's every movement as she fills in the hours visiting the obvious tourist haunts.

But we hardly learn Mrs. MacKenzie's inner thoughts, unless, God forbid, this is as deep as she ever gets.

Certainly things are "fascinating,'' "excellent,'' and "delightful'' but she rarely bothers to explain why.

On and on she gushes.

She apparently meets a lot of "interesting'' people but what makes them so never comes across as Mrs. MacKenzie is too busy filling you on what she had for lunch that day.

In her promo blurb, she admits that she cannot claim to be an authority on the Island and its people.

But basic errors abound -- to such an extent that it seems to have gone straight from her daily journal into print without even a cursory glance from an editor.

As Bermuda approaches the election she tells her diary: "The Democratic Party has been in power for the last 30 years, but now it looks as though the PLP are set to get in as they appear to be very popular.'' She adds with typical banality: "It will be interesting to see how events develop in due course.'' Indeed it was, but then politics aren't exactly her strong point -- nor are race relations as she leaves no stereotype unvisited in her losing battle with the written word.

Describing a Gombeys display she tells readers, echoing a sentiment I had hoped had died out long ago: "Most of the audience were black Bermudians whose wonderful sense of rhythm and movement just couldn't be held back.'' At a mixed-race party, where of course she met "lots of interesting people and enjoyed a variety of topics of conversation,'' she describes the dancing thus: "The spoons clacked on with a merry rhythm and the more traditional Trinadian women danced with their hands high above their head, white teeth gleaming.'' White teeth? Really Mrs. MacKenzie? Unlike us expats who of course sport purple molars.

Book manages to irritate and offend For those who might think I am being unfair to her I would say this -- there's no need for this book.

It won't appeal to residents and visitors alike as is billed. Nor is it insightful or amusing. If you live here you know the Island's beauty spots. If you don't, buy a guide book.

Like most journals, it should have remained within the immediate family rather than in the book store at $15 a time.

Still, it looks like getting published is easier than I thought. Mmmm...

look for a book of old shopping lists -- bearing my name -- hitting the shops in the near future.

It could be a nice little earner.

Matthew Taylor BOOK REVIEW REV BKS