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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person is standing outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, the show comes like a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a six-part program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s quiet book – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking critically above its eyewear at anything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (one more uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends emails using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. It could be that the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as cheering as passing time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and let it in.