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In a calm area of the city, a man stands outside his home, wearing a vest and expressing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, staring into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest and only friend, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly over its spectacles on everything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those satisfied to wander below the parapet. But. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the openings of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths which led him to his current situation (alone; defensively moustached; creating several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails using the words “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring game night that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name is shrouded in history. Maybe he once ate some food in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (the performer), a recent lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as heartening as being in the company of dear pals.

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