Directory overview
- 32 Total businesses
- 3.9 Average rating
- 63% With reviews
- 44% With photos
- 3 Highly rated
- 20 Open on weekends
32 results found
Browse laminating services in Bristol. Use this directory to compare ratings, reviews, photos, opening hours, addresses and contact details. 32 results in Bristol. Average rating 3.9/5 based on 1,094 reviews & ratings.
How many businesses fall in each rating band (rated only).
The features most often offered by the found businesses.
The most common services among the found businesses, with the top-rated providers for each.
Businesses ranked by rating confidence — rating combined with review volume.
| Business | Rating | Reviews | Category | Best for |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| La Déesse Beauty Loft | 5.0 | 460 | Beauty Salon | Cruelty-free beauty treatments |
| Kabuki | 4.9 | 65 | Beauty Salon | Lash Lifts |
| Fred the handyman | 5.0 | 40 | General Contractor | Decking construction |
| Beauty At 22 | 4.9 | 38 | Beauty Salon | Bridal Makeup |
| The Brow Retreat | 5.0 | 24 | Beauty Salon | Brow shaping |
| diiy | 5.0 | 4 | General Contractor | Bespoke cabinetry |
“Sofa shopping, let’s be honest, is the single most exhausting pastime known to humankind. Forget marathons, childbirth, or Brexit negotiations, nothing will drain your soul quite like trudging around Cribbs Causeway with your wife, looking at a thousand slight variations of padded rectangles. The problem isn’t really the sofas themselves (although God knows some of them look like they’ve been upholstered in the skin of a startled badger). The problem is sofa shock. That moment when you realise you’re expected to lower yourself onto yet another beige monstrosity, nod appreciatively, and then get back up again, only to repeat the process across an entire retail park. It is, in fact, a tidy little paradox. The longer you sit on a sofa, the more comfortable it becomes, but in direct correlation, your will to live diminishes. Ten minutes in DFS and you’ll happily fork out for a beanbag. Twenty minutes in SCS and you’re thinking, “Do we even need furniture? Couldn’t we just squat, like medieval peasants?” Now, sofa shopping is not something you do regularly. Despite what the shops would like, it’s not a jaunty every-three-years affair. No. This is a once-in-a-decade blood pact, like renewing your passport. The evidence is right there, jammed down the side of our current sofa: a Radio Times from 2002. David Tennant wasn’t even Doctor Who yet. So, in a moment of male genius (read: cowardice), I sent out a search party in advance, namely, my wife. She produced a shortlist of sofas she liked. Which, as is the way of these things, meant a shortlist of sofas I liked. My role was not to choose but to greenlight. It’s marriage, not democracy. And then…miracle of miracles… we walked into SCS Sofas, Cribbs Causeway, and I saw one. A sofa I actually liked. “What about that one?” I ventured, expecting to be told it was the wrong size, wrong shape, wrong vibes. Instead, my wife said: “That’s the one I like.” Bull’s-eye. Done. Sofa harmony achieved. Except of course it wasn’t done. Oh no. You don’t just “buy” a sofa. You must choose colours, sizes, shapes, cushions, protection, and payment schemes that appear to have been devised by Goldman Sachs. But, and here’s the real kicker, we were rescued by Sophie. Brilliant Sophie. Patient, charming, efficient Sophie, who not only explained it all without the faintest trace of judgment, but even handwrote the dimensions for us. By this point I was so delirious that I nearly nodded off right there on the showroom floor. Which, in a way, is the highest compliment you can pay a sofa. So yes, thank you Sophie. Thank you SCS. Thank you, sofa gods, for ending the torment. We are now the proud owners of a new sofa, which will no doubt survive until the 2040 Olympics and still contain the fossilised remains of 2025’s iPhone cables.”
Answers generated from the current directory data.