<p>It''s two fifteen a.m., you''re in bed alone and you''re woken by the phone.<br><br>Your eyes are wide and your body tense before it has completed so much as a single ring. And as you wake, in the tiny moment between sleep and consciousness, you know already that something is wrong.<br><br>Only someone bad would call at such an hour. Or someone good, but with bad news, which would probably be worse.<br><br>You lie there in the darkness and wait for the answer machine to kick in. Your own voice sounds strange as it tells you that nobody is there but that a message can be left.<br><br>You feel your heart beat. You listen. And then you hear the one voice in the world you least expect . . . your very own Blast From the Past.</p>