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In a calm neighborhood of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, wearing a vest and sharing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show created by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s understated story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking critically over its spectacles at anything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those satisfied to wander below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (one more distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “need to open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the paths that have brought him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of this name is shrouded in mystery. It could be that Paul once ate a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (the performer), a fresh energetic co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program focused less on story and more on what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit has good intentions: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as cheering as being in the company of close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, a little, and let it in.