Snow on the Ben, again again.

This time across the Beauly Firth. Just as unsnowy as yesterday. And some sort of canal in the foreground. Quite the place to contemplate one’s lunch and one’s navel.

All told, a pretty decent day.

The true Invernesian dialogue goes like this.
A: Snow on the Ben.
B: Aye, snow on the Ben.
A:(after thoughtful pause) Aye.

Can you guess what C would say?