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In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, an individual can be found on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the main character, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe flapping with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the noise and fast pace of modern television terrain, this series steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a six-part show written by its authors, inspired by the author’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly through its spectacles at anything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to pootle around away from attention. However. The character (one more distinctly original turn by the actor) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … slightly.” The passing of his parent has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the choices that have brought him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; writing multiple educational volumes for an employer who ends correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, guide and partner in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker appears lost in history. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (the actress), a new energetic associate who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core has good intentions: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.