She’s 93, from Wales, and obsessed with the Mummers. She flew to Philadelphia to meet them.

Seeing the Mummers’ New Year’s Day parade became something of a running joke to Avril Davidge and her family.

You see, they live in Wales and Davidge is now a 93-year-old grandmother who rarely leaves her flat. She didn’t have a passport, nor had she been on a plane in 30 years. She’d never been to the United States and she jokes she could die tomorrow.

But after going down a YouTube rabbit hole and becoming what can only be described as obsessed with the tradition two years ago, she would often say things like “when we go to Philadelphia” or “when I see my Mummers.”

“It’s done a lot for me,” Davidge said. She had her granddaughter set her Mummers YouTube videos on autoplay since she can’t figure out the search function. “Even having breakfast, I put it on. It starts the day right for me.”

While the Mummers Parade can draw drastically divergent opinions at home, where some see it as a beloved multigenerational tradition and others paint it as an excuse for people to get drunk on Two Street, Davidge sees it as a connection to her late husband. She doesn’t know anyone in Wales who has even heard of Mummery, but deep in her heart, she knows it’s something her husband of 70 years would have loved. He died two years ago and she discovered her first Mummers video weeks later.

Eventually, her family decided to give Davidge the trip of a lifetime to witness the 10,000-person spectacle that has ushered in the new year for Philadelphians for 125 years. Davidge will be among the many spectators watching the Mummers Parade take Broad Street on Thursday.

Using the power of social media and propelled by her family, Davidge landed Tuesday at Philadelphia International Airport, greeted by a Rocky statue — another bit of culture she loves. On Wednesday she was surprised with a trip to the Mummers Museum in South Philadelphia, where she delighted in a private tour: Yes, they’re real ostrich feathers on the costumes, and one of the more elaborate costumes can weigh 150 pounds.

Then she met Jimmy Good, captain of the Quaker City String Band, and a personal favorite of Davidge’s. Her family said Davidge often quiets them down with a “my Jimmy is on.”

“I’ll never forget this,” she told Good, complimenting what she called his beautiful smile and showing him her golden shoes, a nod to dem golden slippers. “Never.”

The two even strutted in the museum, Good pushing Davidge in her wheelchair as she lifted a gifted satin umbrella.

It was a scene Davidge’s family could hardly believe was playing out. Just a few weeks ago, they thought Davidge was at death’s door.

When Davidge’s husband died, she was “feeling low,” as she calls it.

Then the YouTube algorithm, programmed by her granddaughter to show her United Kingdom marching bands, showed her a clip of the Quaker City String Band performing “Make Believe,” a song Davidge and her husband loved. Her family felt it was almost a form of divine intervention.

Something about the string bands, the costumes, the performances offered a comfort Davidge needed. Soon, the Mummers were all she was watching and she quickly developed an encyclopedic knowledge of the longtime Philadelphian tradition.

The 1999 Quaker City String Band theme of “Reflections of Old Moscow” is a legendary performance, Davidge said, and then-captain Bob Shannon Jr. remains her all-time favorite.

She was in awe as she learned Shannon stood at 6-foot-10; the old YouTube clips are grainy and don’t do the performances justice.

Davidge’s love for the Mummers has been contagious, family members say, not that they’ve had much of a choice.

Last year, Fiona Smillie-Hedges, Davidge’s granddaughter, asked a friend, American expat Wendy Ratcliffe, if she had heard of the Mummers.

Ratcliffe, whose maternal side of the family is scattered around Southeastern Pennsylvania, was floored.

“I said, vast swaths of the country would have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

When Ratcliffe’s family visited her, they brought a Mummers mug and other Philly merch for the grandmother they had heard so much about. The mug is not for use and remains propped in front of Davidge’s television.

Last Christmas, Davidge even got a Mummers book, which she calls her bible.

By 2025, the joke of going to Philly felt more like an inevitability. Smillie-Hedges, 38, tried to figure out how to maximize the experience and took to TikTok and Instagram to get some advice. She needed to know how people kept warm, how to get a good view of the string bands, and where to stay.

Soon she was in touch with Jim Donio, host of the String Band Sessions podcast, a longtime Mummer who led the broadcasts from 1985 to 1987.

Donio arranged for the museum tour and asked Good to set some time aside to meet Davidge.

“I need[ed] to step in here and do what I can to make this dream happen and make this dream come true,” Donio said.

But as Donio — who calls Davidge “Queen Mumm” — worked stateside, Davidge caught some sort of virus a few weeks ago, which at her age can be deadly.

Davidge said she thought she wouldn’t make it.

But Smillie-Hedges said the family used the Philadelphia trip to motivate her into eating and staying positive.

“She’s worked very hard to be here, to be well enough,” Smillie-Hedges said. “Every time I was like, you must eat this, you must drink that. Come on, Rocky training for Philly.”

On Wednesday, Davidge was all smiles. Her hotel overlooks Broad Street should she get cold and need to duck in for warmth. Unbeknownst to her, Donio also arranged for a golf cart to get her, Ratcliffe, Smillie-Hedges, and Davidge’s daughter Kay Hedges to their VIP seats by the judges’ table.

The whole trip feels implausible to the family, yet the only natural outcome.

“[Davidge] didn’t find the Mummers until it was literally a couple of weeks after my granddad had passed,” Smillie-Hedges said. “I swear it was meant to be.”