They were so clever, our Mums, weren't they? Dad was foreman spinner in a blanket mill. He used to bring home 'blanket ends' which Mum would sew together to make full blankets. Once, during the war, she boiled some up to shrink them, dyed them, then brushed up the pile to make them into dressing gown material. She made such dressing gowns for my two brothers.
They were dressed in these, and their home made pyjamas when the boss came visiting when I was born. (It was usual practice back then for the mill owner to visit when a long-term employee had a baby - there was usually a gift involved. ) Mum nearly had a fit - she wasn't sure if the blankets ends had been OK to take. However, he had no idea; the material was unrecognisable by then.
Those were the days of paternalism of course - we might sniff at it now, but that small c conservatism was a lot better than the rampant, devil-take-the-hindmost laissez-faire capitalism of today.
Years later Mum and I were walking home in the rain when that boss's son saw us and gave us a lift. I was at grammar school then, aged about 11 or 12 and we were doing the Industrial Revolution in History. I gave him a long talk about the evils of that era, while Mum quietly despaired. He took it well, and arranged for me to see all their historical exhibits, mainly photos, of the era.
I saw it all as history of course, and I think he did: Mum thought I was having a go at him. I was too naive to see that.