Fordyce Maxwell: The whirring sound is George Orwell, uneasy in his grave for several reasons THE "Road to Berwick pier" might not have the same resonance as "The Road to Wigan Pier," but it's still a walk worth taking - even though, just as George Orwell's "pier" was a wooden jetty from which coal was loaded to canal barges, our "pier" is actually a breakwater. Any comparison beyond mis-naming is all in our favour. Orwell's wooden jetty was jokingly named by George Formby, snr, a music hall entertainer whose greater crime was to be father of George, jnr, of ukele, "I'm forever cleaning windows" and "Oh, Mr Woo, what can I do?" infamy. By the time Orwell reached Wigan in 1934 to report on the wretched working conditions and lives of those in the coal industry, the pier/jetty had been demolished. The irony is that the name lingers and, according to the Wigan development board, "is a strong marketing tool" for their modest tourist trade. Yup, the whirring sound is Orwell, uneasy in his grave for several reasons, not least violence done to the English language. Our pier has much sounder foundations. Stone-built to provide harbour protection it has done good service since completion in 1821, when its wide, dog-legged, 960 yards to the small lighthouse at the far end immediately became a popular walk for locals and visitors. Still popular, it was closed recently for more than a year while extensive, expensive, repairs were made. The small lighthouse was lovingly repainted red and white by a local firm and, a treat I wasn't expecting when I reached there early last week, an L S Lowry print The Sea is now attached to its base. Lowry, best known for his stick-like figures and industrial landscapes, spent many holidays in Berwick and there is - "a strong marketing tool" for our own tourist trade - a Lowry trail of paintings round the town. But The Sea was a new one to me - one third dark and brooding sea, two thirds sky, not a stick figure in sight among the desolate black, white and blue-grey tones. Unsurprisingly menacing too, considering Lowry's opinion of the North Sea that he painted frequently: "It's all there. It's all in the sea. The battle of life is there. And fate. And the inevitability of it all. That's the artistic temperament for you. I had intended to walk the pier sooner after it reopened, but twice a gale was blowing and I didn't fancy a clothed dip. Having read Lowry's quote beside the print, a delayed visit until a sunny, if cold, day was well advised. A striking painting, but after reading that on a bad day, some walkers might not make it back.