Other people had already tried to explain about maps to Granny Weatherwax, usually giving up in the face of her stern determination not to understand. She had never had any need for them in all of her life, knowing the forest and villages of Lancre perfectly and getting hopelessly lost whenever she stepped outside of her boundaries. She folded her arms, glaring at the Doctor as if he'd just said that the world was shaped like a ball or another similar piece of nonsense.
"Look," Granny pointed out in what she considered to be a reasonable tone, but resembled more to the tone used with slow children. "We are here, standin' next to these fake horses and teacups. It stands to reason that we can't be in two places at once, so we sure ain't there." She prodded the journal page, as if daring it to prod back. Damn wizards, always trying to make everything complicated. The world was complicated enough without all of their tinkering.
Writing was another field Granny wasn't very proficient in, so she simply made a face at the idea of writing on a journal to ask for something. Privately she thought that, if she ever needed anything, she would have done what she usually did back home: walk out and find someone to glare at until they got it into their mind that the best thing to do now was help the witch in need of their assistance.
It was getting chilly by then, so Granny welcomed the idea of getting somewhere with a roof over her head. "Is there an inn in these parts?" she asked. The village was so small that she doubted it, but she wouldn't have minded staying at someone's house either.