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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, a person stands in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the protagonist, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a six-part show created by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s understated book – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly through its eyewear on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those happy to wander below the parapet. But. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses a creeping “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; creating a range of kids' reference books for a boss who ends correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Maybe Paul once ate some food in record time, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes Shelley (the performer), a fresh energetic associate who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience throughout this minor-key niceness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as heartening as passing time with close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.