It was a show I'd worked on for a couple of years at that point, and very much loved writing for - I ended up being responsible for 14 episodes overall, second only to Andy himself... devouring every commission they'd toss my way.
At the time, I was also developing my own kids show, one which, as usually happens, never got made.
I think I'd already had a few close calls by that point - projects which nearly got green-lit - and was already feeling pessimistic about the chances of this new one. Coupled to that, I'd had some other strange experiences - namely, having some un-produced work shamelessly pilfered by certain individuals - which made me feel cynical about the TV industry as a whole.
It was while telling Andy all this that he gave me one of the best pieces of advice I have ever received: enjoy the "What if".
At that point, my show was in active development, people liked it, and it hadn't yet hit the stumbling blocks which eventually resulted in it not being commissioned (namely, ITV closing its children's department, and cancelling all investment in kids TV).
Andy's suggestion was to enjoy the possibility that my show would happen, telling me to revel in it, because at that moment in time there was every chance it might.
Admittedly, that was easier said than done - it's like when someone tells you to not feel the thing you feel, as if your emotional response is somehow "wrong" or defective. It's always horrible advice, usually given to shut you up just so they don't have to listen to you trying to process it.
But on this occasion, some of the advice went in: ever since that night, I have strived not to be too cynical about any show I'm developing, and to stay in the moment when it is working. Otherwise, if you're always focused on an expected negative outcome, it threatens to consume you. It's no way to live.
Which brings me nicely to No Man's Sky: a game that, at this moment, few of us have played. All we have to go on is the hype, the trailers, our own expectations, and the endless possibilities.
I've tried hard not to buy into the No Man's Sky hype wholesale, like some have.
You know: those people who started sending death threats when Kotaku reported that the game was going to be delayed by two weeks or so.
That feels like it transcends enjoying the "What if", to full-on zealotry. Over a game they had yet to play no less. Mental, much?
I've tried to listen to my own reservations that No Man's Sky might be a giant universe in search of a game. I'm concerned that it might be a little bit too Elite for my tastes, that the trading will detract from what I want it to be. That I'll be forced into busy-work, collecting resources, when all I want to do is explore. I'm worried about the massive day one patch that I'll have to install before I get to play it. I'm worried it'll bore me.
You see - in my eyes - they've failed to really convey what the game is (even one of the developers came out and said it's different to how it's portrayed in the trailers), it means there's a version of it which exists in my head which is unique to me. All our imaginations have spent the past year or so making the version of No Man's Sky that we all want. And that's potentially dangerous, and can only really result in a backlash... unless we can acknowledge it for what it is.
It's hard though, trying to cushion any potential disappointment. The hype, the excitement, still it cuts through. I mean, I'm excited because I'm excited; I can't remember the last time a brand new game - which isn't a sequel - had so much anticipation. It takes me back to the days when certain big releases were an event, when we all bought into that hype, without cynicism or reservation.
And because of that, because we can't ignore the hype entirely, can't ignore our own excitement, or the game we've spent the past year or so playing in our heads, because we're going to be disappointed whatever happens... we might as well just accept it.
Maybe we should enjoy these last few moments of the What If - before we get to play No Man's Sky for real, while we're waiting for the postman to arrive, or for Game to open, or for that massive day one patch to install.
Right now, No Man's Sky is the game I want it to be. It's that game without boundaries, where I can explore a universe full of trillions upon trillions of worlds, without limitations or restrictions.
There's no gathering resources to fuel my ship, or diminishing evo suit shields. There's no trading, no tedium, no mining, or building, or juggling inventories. It's just me and the enormity of space; just like I always wanted the game to be. It's a game of infinite possibilities, a break from the straight-jacket of society.
Right now, for a few more hours, No Man's Sky is the best game I've ever played.