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In a quiet area of Dublin, a man can be found outside his home, wearing a vest and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV landscape, the show arrives like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-part show created by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; looking skeptically through its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to wander away from attention. But. The character (a further uniquely quirky performance from the star) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the openings of my life … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the decisions which led him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple educational volumes for an employer who concludes emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that he once ate a snack unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a new lively colleague who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us throughout this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up toward the sky, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as cheering as spending time alongside close companions.

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