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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the main character, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, the show steps in like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-episode program written by its authors, based on the novelist’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; looking disapprovingly through its eyewear on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those content to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) is uneasy. He notices a growing “need to open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the decisions which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; writing a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening which acts as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of this name seems forgotten in history. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (the actress), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of a series focused less on story and more on what the under-30s might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading the audience amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as spending time with close companions.

Unlock the entryways within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.