However, working for a global business, I am surrounded by colleagues whose first language is not English. My team mate is French and a close colleague who sits across the partition from me is Turkish. Within a couple of desks away are three Germans so by the time you add the erstwhile Aussie to the mix, the locals represent less than 50% of the seating arrangements in our area.
There's often much hilarity as sayings go a bit awry with regularity. We've had the dog barking at the wrong door (vs up the tree), don't let the bugs bite (the bed just went amiss), cookie (vs brownie) points and my personal favourite, a 'one pony trick' which leads the mind in a significantly different direction from the one trick pony!
It's not just the longer prefixes to the shires that trip one up on this green isle - I mean how do you get 'wooster' from Worcester - or the fact that words tend to dribble away here as opposed to the emphasis-on-every-syllable pronunciation employed by my lot (eg. Bir-ming-ham rhymes with 'I eat SPAM').
It's the presence of a letter. A letter that just sneaks in there, quiet as you like. And upsets the natural order of things.
The letter 'W'.
It's a dastardedly affair. The 'W' sound is happy to lead off, loud and proud, at the beginning of a word - Walthamstow, Windsor, Worthing are fine examples.
But the rules seem to differ when that little 'w' ensconces itself right in the middle of things. So Southwark is pronounced 'Suthick' (vs my fresh-off-the-boat South-walk all those years ago), Harwich is pronounced 'Harrich'...
...and today, I automatically corrected my collègue français' Flitwick - without skipping a beat - to 'Flittick'.
My family keep telling me I sound more and more English every time I speak to them.
I think they may be right.