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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his robe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the noise and fast pace of current streaming landscape, the show comes similar to a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, this comedy – a half-dozen installment show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly above its spectacles on everything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those happy to amble along below the parapet. However. Leonard (another uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “urge to throw open the openings in my existence … a little.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; writing a range of kids' reference books for an employer who signs off messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, mentor and ally in a recurring gaming session functioning as both discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in history. Maybe he once ate a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding us amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as passing time alongside close companions.

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