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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a person stands outside his home, sporting a vest and voicing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I believe without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only and only friend, ponders this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, this series arrives as a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by its authors, based on the novelist’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; gazing disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute to people content to amble along out of the spotlight. However. He (another distinctly original performance from the star) is unsettled. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … a little.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths that directed him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh energetic colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as heartening as spending time in the company of close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and let it in.