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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a person stands outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says Leonard, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the noise and fast pace of current streaming terrain, this series arrives as a foil blanket with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode comedy written by its authors, inspired by the author’s quiet book – takes a dim view at modern life; peering critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those content to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. He (another distinctly original performance from the star) is unsettled. He senses an increasing “need to open the entryways of my life … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels doubting the decisions that directed him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; creating multiple educational volumes for an employer who ends messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) serving as his close companion, mentor and partner in a recurring board games evening which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name seems forgotten in mystery. It could be that he once ate a snack very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (the performer), a recent energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and more by what the under-30s might call “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding the audience throughout this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as heartening as being in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and let it in.