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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a man is standing on the pavement, sporting a tank top and voicing his concerns. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states the main character, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those weary by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, this series arrives as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those happy to amble along out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) feels restless. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the decisions that have brought him to this point (alone; defensively moustached; writing a range of kids' reference books for a boss who signs off emails saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a weekly gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker once ate some food very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star clashes with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as uplifting as passing time alongside close companions.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, a little, and let it in.